


From Argentina With Love

by afrocurl, lachatblanche



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Espionage, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles, Erik and Raven are members of U.N.C.L.E., a secret agency that has brought the three of them together to do what agents of no one nation can do alone. Their newest mission sees them travel to Argentina to meet with a weapons dealer, Sebastian Shaw, while also allowing them to deal with the increasingly complicated relationship between the three of them.</p>
<p>A <em>Man From U.N.C.L.E.</em> AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Argentina With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely gerec and unveiled who looked through this for us and made sure that everything made sense. You're both lovely <3

Howlett has an assignment for them just as Raven’s finally feeling settled with the two men who bicker as if it were an Olympic sport. They are all sitting around their shared apartment (suite more accurately), looking curious - Charles - and bored - Erik - while Raven is just happy to have an assignment after three weeks of lazing around London. There has been a disquiet in moments when they aren’t intertwined with each other that has her nerves on edge, but a case will help to ease that feeling. She hopes.

“There’s an escaped Nazi who has interest in trying to re-arm the Germans. Based out of Argentina, naturally, so pack accordingly. Details will follow for what an appropriate cover will be. As will McCoy with a rundown of your tech.”

“Sir, are you sure that we’re the best to handle this?” she asks.

“You’re perfect, Raven. Defector who has family ties with known criminals. You’ll be interested in helping to get the weapons into East Berlin where you still know people who are bitter about the war.”

“And Charles and Erik?”

“Your financiers for the operation. Sympathizers, you see. Charles can say he’s friendly with the Duke and Duchess of Windsor.”

Charles snorts. “As if, sir.”

“Charles, it’s a front. But you have the pedigree. British roots but an American, it’s ideal,” Howlett adds, with that look of weary disdain that he wears when faced with Charles’ and Erik’s surliness, the two still getting used to working for U.N.C.L.E.

Raven prides herself on the ease with which she has adjusted, and wishes she had a better way to placate Charles and Erik than simply her feminine wiles. It is tiring to have to deal with their constant competition for her affection when they honestly have nothing to worry about. She cares about them both, but they have yet to cotton on to that, or to the fact that they are no longer enemies.

Still, she thinks with a smirk, it makes the time that they spend together in bed a _lot_ of fun. Being on the receiving end of all that competitive energy has always been exhilarating, and it’s one of the reasons why she is so quick to ignore their childish spats and tantrums outside of bed. She almost, if she is honest with herself, regrets the oncoming, inevitable moment when Charles and Erik finally stop focusing on her and turn their attentions on each other; she’s become quite used to the way things are and losing that will be a wrench. She’s not _too_ worried about it though - she has no doubt that watching Erik and Charles together will be almost as thrilling, and she has her own ways of making them both sit up and take notice when she wants them to.

She listens attentively as Howlett fills them in on the remaining details and then heads up to pack. 

Argentina, she thinks, that will be fun. Maybe she can convince the boys to go dancing while they’re there. If they can stop bickering for long enough to agree, that is.

They’re meeting in the hotel lounge half an hour later. Erik was the first one down, looking impatient even as Raven arrives with ten minutes until departure. Charles of course, is the last to arrive, his hair perfectly coiffed and his suit sharp and clean, a new pocket square peeking out from the pocket over his left breast. Erik gives him a foul look, looking pointedly at the wall clock, but Charles just rolls his eyes good-naturedly and leads the way out of the hotel. There is a car waiting to take them to the airport, and the three of them cram themselves inside, Erik holding himself stiffly as Charles presses up against him in the backseat. Luckily, the three of them tend to pack very lightly, due to the nature of the job, and so their luggage fits easily in the trunk allowing them a little more legroom than they might otherwise have had.

The journey to the airport is made in relative silence, with all three of them ruminating on the information that Howlett gave them, she hopes. The target’s name is Sebastian Shaw, a man with plenty of money and very few morals. His status as a former Nazi is almost unsurprising after the rundown of his crimes that Howlett had given them, but Raven, watching Erik out of the corner of her eye, knows that this is the part that sticks with him the most. Erik already has a volatile temper at the best of times, but she has no idea what being in the presence of a confirmed Nazi might bring out in him. She bites her lip and resolves to keep her eye on Erik for the duration of the mission. Maybe she ought to have a word with Charles too, to ask if he will tread lightly around Erik for the next few days and to not irk him more than usual.

Then again she muses, as the dark cloud over Erik’s brow extinguishes, the moment that Charles starts complaining about his bony arm digging into his side - perhaps Charles irking him is exactly what Erik needs. 

Raven feels her mouth twitch as the arguing beside her grows louder, and she closes her eyes and leans back into the seat of the car. 

Thank goodness she remembered to pack earplugs for the flight.

*****

Charles' disgruntlement about the Windsors - possibly the whole operation - continues even after they land in Buenos Aires, and Raven hopes that something Erik says will break the foul mood. She doesn't trust herself to settle his moods, which she has found are usually timed to assignments he's less than receptive to. Erik doesn't show emotion when they're all together, but after their shared week in the hotel in Italy, she has also seen his fist clench and his eyes narrow in quieter moments. She half expects that Erik will just tell Charles to shut up and do the job, but he does nothing as they settle into a large suite in the hotel. She's glad that she’s expected to be a woman of influence, something which affords them multiple rooms for the trip. She lets Charles and Erik settle in before she picks her own bed, choosing to sleep closer to Erik. It won't stop him and Charles from more bickering, but it might save her from a long sleepless night as Charles waxes poetic about genetics as he drifts off.

Tonight, however, Charles is doing none of his usual routines. He isn't talking science; he isn't talking at all. He simply ignores them both and settles into his room without fanfare.

"Did you say something to him on the flight?" she asks Erik. She leaves them alone on flights, content to read a magazine or two and then sleep the rest away, which means she misses any number of spats or meaningful conversations.

"No, I left him alone. He's annoyed about the Windsor connection."

"That? He has to know he only needs to fake that." 

"He takes it seriously, it seems." Erik shrugs as he if doesn't know what else to say. “Does he have a connection to them?” she asks before Erik shrugs again. That sets Raven on edge, but she thinks she has a way to make Erik understand.

"Does Charles think I relish having to use Kurt's idiotic ideas about the master race to our advantage?” she demands, annoyed. “My dear _father_ wanted to cull the population out of some ridiculous notion of purity and superiority, for heaven’s sake! Charles can just stop sulking about having to pretend to like the Windsors if I have to use Kurt; we're both relying on something we disagree with." Raven rolls her eyes. "Charles just needs to get over it.”

"Myopathy, I think is the word that describes him," Erik adds grimly, a man of few words as always. It is one of Erik’s charms as well as a flaw when it comes to actually having to talk through their issues.

Typical, Raven thinks, but she doesn't say anything aloud. "Well, we have a day for him to relish in that connection before we're expected to meet Shaw at a club,” she says instead.

Erik only hums his agreement and then goes to unpacking his suit. From what Raven can see, it looks as though Charles had some say in the tailoring. She smiles. If only she had been there to watch _that_ spat.

*****

The next day they are a bit less on edge. Charles heads out early so that he can get a feel for the location and so that he can ask around about Shaw. Of all of them Charles has always been the best at casually gathering information. Erik’s style has always been more interrogative, while Raven herself favors espionage, but Charles somehow has the ability to get people talking to him simply by being his own charming self. It’s extraordinarily useful, as most of the time, no one actually realizes that they’ve been giving away clandestine secrets left and right. It’s probably also what made Charles such a successful thief prior to his becoming a spy; it wouldn’t be hard for Charles to find out whose jewels were stored where when he had the owners all but eating out of his hands within a few minutes of conversation. Raven would almost feel jealous if she didn’t have a higher set of morals - and, of course, if she weren’t so immensely capable in her own ways.

Raven herself spends the day within the hotel itself, ensuring that she is seen and noticed in order to give her cover more legitimacy. She makes a deliberate point of being haughty and demanding with the wait staff, and then proceeds to tip them outrageously for their pains, and she goes down to lunch and then dinner dressed to the nines and wearing a truly ridiculous set of diamonds that she’d found sitting on top of her suitcase that morning. She’s not entirely sure where they came from but she really hopes that Charles didn’t purloin it from somewhere. He never was any good at resisting temptation after all, and she’s sure the diamonds would have been nigh on irresistible.

Erik spends the first half of the day sitting on his bed, loading and reloading his gun and taking inventory of all of their weapons, before taking it upon himself to read and re-read the Shaw dossier for what has to be the hundredth time in the past twenty-four hours. He joins Raven for lunch, rolling his eyes at the enjoyment with which she takes to her role of spoilt brat, and then proceeds to carefully choose the most tasteful - and therefore the most expensive - items on the menu for his meal. Raven knows very well that this isn’t out of any particular preference - Erik has little patience for bourgeois pomposity, after all - but he’s following her lead and building up his cover. After all, a man of resources, such as the one that he is supposed to be, is sure to like the finer things in life.

After lunch, Erik leaves her to scout around and she does not see him until evening when they reconvene in their suite, dinner settling in her stomach.

“Where did you go?” she asks him when he enters the room, glancing up from the magazine in her hands.

“Out,” is Erik’s brusque reply. He sees her look and then sighs. “I have a few contacts here in Argentina.”

Raven raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been here before?”

“Yes. Once.”

Raven would love to enquire further but Erik’s forbidding expression stops her. She eyes him for a moment, wondering how deep she will be able to pry before he finally snaps at her, but then the door opens and Charles walks in, looking only a little less sleek and put-together than his usual self.

“Heat getting to you?” Raven drawls, smirking.

“Something like that,” Charles says airily.

Erik, however, seems to be fixated on something quite different, for his expression grows dark and his eyebrows draw together.

“You have something on your collar,” he spits out, giving Charles a venomous look before deliberately stalking over to his bed and retrieving his gun so that he can take it apart and put it back again. By now Raven has it pegged as something that he does in order to relax. She doesn’t judge. To each their own and all that.

She glances over curiously at Charles, who is pawing at his collar with a rather bemused expression. His face clears a moment later and he lets out a rueful laugh. “Sorry,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “Valentina got a bit overenthusiastic earlier.”

Raven frowns but her confusion clears up a moment later when she sees Charles’s collar. Or, to be more precise, Charles’ lipstick-smeared collar.

She sighs. No wonder Erik was angry. She doesn’t mind so much if Charles fools around a little - he’s a born flirt after all - but Erik, on the other hand, is a deeply possessive man. Even though he and Charles circle around each other like a pair of mistrustful wolves and still won’t admit that the two of them are in any way attracted to one another, Raven knows that Erik considers Charles to be more than just a friend or ally, and a key part of this strange relationship that they all find themselves in.

“Overenthusiastic?” she repeats, trying not to inject her words with a sigh. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Behind her she hears a particularly loud _thud_ as Erik bangs something down on the bedside table.

“I don’t know what else to call it,” Charles says with a shrug, strolling forward to collapse into a nearby chair. “All I did was call the girl perfectly charming and tell her she’s an angel sent from heaven, and the next thing I know I’m flat on my back and she’s kissing me like her life depended on it.”

A loud, obnoxious snort comes from Erik’s bed. “Oh yes,” he sneers. “Because there is no one who can resist your overpowering English charm.”

Charles preens. Then he frowns. “Oh,” he says, disappointed. “You were being sarcastic.”

Erik snorts again but doesn’t bother answering.

“Are you upset with me, Lehnsherr?” Charles asks, cocking his head.

At first Raven thinks that Erik isn’t going to say anything but then he looks up and glares at Charles. “We are not here for your fun and games,” he hisses. “We are here do a job. You were meant to find out more about Shaw, not take anyone who looks at you twice to bed!”

“First of all,” Charles holds up a hand, “I resent the implication that I’m not a professional. I may not sit around glaring at people all day but that doesn’t make me unprofessional. Secondly,” he paused. “I didn’t actually sleep with her.”

Erik and Raven both look up at that.

Charles rolls his eyes at them. “Come on,” he says wryly. “I’m not a _complete_ cad, you know. What we have here is complicated enough without including a fourth party into the mix.”

Erik doesn’t look wholly convinced but he is nevertheless mollified by this.

“And as for doing my job,” Charles continues, a trifle haughtily. “I _was_. Valentina is part of Shaw’s household. She was telling me all about her terrible employer who insists on flirting with her - he has quite an eye for the ladies, it seems,” he adds, giving Raven a significant look, “--and she was telling me how he always has these strange men who come in to see him and they spend hours locked up in his office, and how no one is allowed in there even to clean. She was even telling me about how hard she has to work, poor dear, what with there being only five members of staff to look after the place, including the gardener. Twelve bedrooms, I think she said, on two different floors. She was quite descriptive, you know. In fact, I’d say that I have quite an excellent idea of how the whole premises are laid out. Dear Valentina really is _wonderful_ at giving descriptions.”

Raven’s smile is wide. Even Erik looks more than a little impressed. 

“Valentina’s promised to keep me updated on when Shaw comes and goes,” Charles adds. “So that I might visit her when her boss isn’t around, naturally.”

“Oh, naturally,” Raven agrees, rolling her eyes. “How thoughtful of her.”

“I thought so too. There’s tight security, of course,” Charles continues, looking down coyly at his fingernails. “But nothing that an expert couldn’t handle.” His eyes turn mischievous. “Lucky for us, we already have one.”

Raven can’t help it; she laughs at that. “Lucky for us,” she corrects him, smiling. “We have _three_.”

*****

The next day, an envelope arrives with a location and time. No name, but Raven knows that it's from Shaw. The plan starts in earnest.

Raven starts to get nervous as soon as she and Charles walk into the small bar, waiting for Shaw to arrive. The music is airy and light, but the room itself is hidden in shadows and smoke from cigarettes left and right.

This club is the exact opposite of their time in Italy, even if they all had more practice with each other now. Charles takes her by the elbow as she looks around, before he says, “Let’s find a table.”

Erik, Raven remembers, is waiting to arrive a little later, though he has been at her side from time to time and will be here in a matter of moments. Erik’s cover has him as an unknown quantity to Shaw, even if Charles relies on a faked Windsor connection to make things easier for them both.

For now, Shaw hasn’t met any of them, but they have been around town and talking enough to have attracted attention from the locals. Shaw can’t have avoided hearing about Raven at least, the part of the plan that now has her just a bit nervous.

Valentina all but confirmed that they were known quantities when Charles had stopped by earlier in the day. Shaw and his associates had been talking of nothing but Miss Darkholme and her friends. Raven hopes that Shaw’s attention will lead to her being able to have a way into his home for the cache of weapons.

It makes Raven just a little nervous to have been lauded as such a worthwhile person to meet, when she has spent the last twenty years trying to avoid the stigma of being Kurt Marko’s daughter to most people she meets.

At least she’s a bastard and can avoid having to walk around with his name constantly.

Charles picks a table in the middle of the room, with ample light to see around and carefully pulls out the chair for Raven to sit in. He whispers in her ear, “We’ll dance soon enough. We want to be occupied when Shaw comes in,” in an effort to calm her nerves.

His words only do by a fraction of any measure.

But as soon as she thinks that the butterflies have left her does Charles pull her onto the small dance floor and they move in a slow approximation of their last time in bed. Charles rests his hands possessively along her hips and torso, but it doesn’t make her feel like she did under Kurt’s thumb; she has full knowledge of what she and Charles, of what she and Erik and even of what Erik and Charles do with their time.

She sways with Charles to the music before it stops and everyone halts in their places. At the entrance, an oily man in a cream suit walks in flanked on either side by men in tan suits and smug expressions. Raven detests all of them without hearing a word they say. Before she can move, the music picks up again, the man – Shaw – and his lackeys walking towards a table in the corner as the beat matches their steps.

It’s all rather disquieting to Raven’s senses – not that they were eased before this meeting – but she stops as soon as the music shifts, leading Charles back to their table. Hopefully, Shaw will send someone over to discuss their business before too long.

As if her thoughts are being heard, one of the men in tan suits walks up and says, “Herr Shaw would like you both - and your other associate - to join him in two hours at his home.”

“I think,” Raven starts, “we can make that. Provided Herr Shaw gives us his card.” She hopes her attempts at haughtiness are paying off, but she has no real way to knowing yet.

“But of course. Here,” the man says before a crisp card drops to the table.

“We’ll see you soon,” Charles says as he picks up the card and inspects it; he’s making a good show of not knowing where Shaw lives already if Raven is honest.

“As soon as our other associate arrives, that is,” Raven adds, because she won’t go within five feet of Shaw’s home without Erik and his collection of weapons at their disposal.

“We won’t be leaving for at least another hour,” the man replies, before he gives a curt nod and walks away.

“Erik will arrive by then,” Charles whispers before he motions for a waiter to bring them something to drink.

*****

At Erik’s arrival, Raven finally starts to relax, up to and until they arrive outside Shaw’s home forty minutes after Shaw left the club. For all that they had hoped to discuss matters there, it isn’t to be.

The drive is quiet, eerily so, and only when the car stops does Erik say, “What’s the plan?”

“Charles needs to be seen with the two of us, but I think he should leave first to find Valentina. Only after we have the location of the weapons,” Raven says, trying to feel calmer than she is.

“Agreed,” Charles says. “Valentina won’t mind me stopping in again asking for ginger ale.”

“And only ginger ale,” Erik finishes, as if he hasn’t gotten over his jealousy from earlier.

“Stop it,” Raven hisses before she pushes past them both to ring the bell. She wants this all to be over, and for everything to go back to _normal_.

A smile on her face, the door opens and they walk into their impending meeting. She has her doubts about the prospects of finding and removing the weapons, though she does her best to believe in their success.

*****

Raven’s first impression of the house is that it is huge. She’s lived in all sorts of places in her time, from solid brick houses to tiny, cramped apartments and - since she met Erik and Charles - luxurious and spacious hotel suites, but she’s never been in a house as large. She has to force herself to keep from looking too interested in the decor, which straddles the line between fine taste and vulgarity. Charles’s nose is slightly wrinkled in the way that Raven has come to associate with his being particularly snobbish, while Erik just scowls at the room around him. Although it is clear that neither of them like the place very much, they both look at ease with their surroundings, something that Raven hopes that she is pulling off as well. Charles, of course, has probably lived in the lap of luxury his whole life, and Erik has undoubtedly trained himself to blend in with such people and their surroundings. Raven, on the other hand, still gets delighted when she sees complimentary fruit baskets waiting for them when they check into a new hotel.

They follow the man – Shaw’s butler, Raven assumes, dressed as he is in black livery despite the heat – through the house, allowing him to lead the way. Raven can’t help but suspect that the man is deliberately taking the long way round, probably on Shaw’s orders, because surely there’s no need to enter _quite_ so many rooms and corridors on their way, is there? She eyes the butler suspiciously but his face is admirably blank. He’s an older gentleman, and so is unlikely to be a threat, but Raven keeps an eye on him anyway. When she glances over at Charles and Erik, she sees them faking an interest in the house around them, peering around doorways and studying paintings and vases and other _objet d’art_ that they come across. She knows full well that the two of them are busy trying to commit their route through the house to memory for future reference in the likely event that they need to make a quick exit. She herself keeps her focus on the butler, knowing that she will be at Erik’s side for the duration of the visit. She isn’t all that worried about Charles losing his way – out of all of them, Charles is the one who is the most used to sneaking in and out of luxurious, secure mansions, after all, a fact that she wryly reminds herself of when she sees Charles admire a small, bejewelled trinket box a tad too closely for simple theatrics. She has no doubt that Shaw’s house will be at least one item lighter by the time they leave, even if they don’t manage to get their hands on the weapons that they’re looking for.

Which they will. Of course they will. They have to.

At last, they come to a halt outside a pair of wide wooden doors and the butler, glancing behind him as if to make sure that they’re still with him, leans forward and taps discreetly on front.

“Come in,” a voice drawls from inside. Raven, Erik and Charles share a look.

The butler opens the door and stands to the side. “Mr. Shaw is waiting for you,” he tells them in a low voice. 

Raven glances at her boys. Then she lifts her chin, tosses her head, and strides inside.

“Miss Darkholme,” a man calls gaily, smiling benevolently at her from a huge, brown leather armchair. “Please do come in. I have been looking forward to this for quite some time.”

Raven pastes on a smile and walks towards him, distinctly aware of the two men hovering in the background. They are the same ones who were with Shaw at the club, she notes, wearing the same tan suits as they were before. Shaw, on the other hand, has changed out of his cream ensemble and is now dressed all in black. The symbolism isn’t lost on Raven.

“Mr. Shaw,” she purrs, moving forward to greet him, her red dress teasing her ankles as she moves forward. She remembers being unsure of the dress at first, needing to be cajoled into it first by Charles and then by a reluctantly convinced Erik, but now she is glad of it; the bright red is somehow suitable armour against Shaw, a challenge of sorts, marking her as someone not to be trifled with. “We meet at last. You are not the only one who has been looking forward to this meeting.”

Shaw is standing by the time she reaches him and he beams at her. “Call me Sebastian, please,” he tells her, reaching out and taking her hand, bringing it up to his lips so that he can press a lingering kiss on it. Beside her she can feel a slight stiffening in Erik’s posture and she tries her best not to scowl. “And if I had known that you were quite so beautiful, Miss Darkholme, then my impatience for this meeting would have doubled.”

"You are very kind," forcing her lips into a gracious smile. "And please, call me Raven."

“With pleasure,” Shaw smiles, at last releasing her hand. He then turns to Charles and Erik. “And you must be Mr. Francis and Mr. Eisenhardt.” He reaches forward and Raven watches as both Charles and Erik shake Shaw’s hand. "It’s a pleasure to have you boys here."

“The pleasure’s ours,” Charles says smoothly, meeting Shaw’s eyes with an easy smile. “Call me Charles.”

“Max,” Erik nods stiffly as he takes Shaw’s hand. “Thank you for your invitation here today.”

“You’re most welcome,” Shaw beams at them all before ushering them towards the seats that are grouped around his armchair. “Please, sit down and make yourselves at home. Can I get you anything to drink?” Before even waiting for their answers Shaw clicks his fingers and one of the men in tan suits steps forward, blank faced and with long jet black hair, and immediately heads over to the wet bar. Shaw then turns to them, an expectant look on his face.

Raven sighs. “Gin and tonic,” she says, barely sparing a glance towards the long-haired man. Charles opts for scotch, while Erik asks for vodka. Raven knows that, like her, neither man will drink more than a few sips while they’re there.

“Splendid,” Shaw says when their drinks are all brought over. Shaw too is brought a glass, despite not having said anything. “Thank you, Janos.” The man nods in acknowledgement, his face still blank, and then goes back to stand against the wall, next to the other man in the tan suit. “How are the three of you enjoying Argentina?”

“Tremendously well,” Raven answers, wishing it were true. Shaw’s presence had rather spoiled things for her. “Such a marvellous country.”

“The people are very beautiful,” Charles adds with a smile, and Raven can practically see Erik restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

“Ah, but not as beautiful as Miss Darkholme here,” Shaw says with an oily smile in her direction. 

Raven smiles thinly, accepting the compliment with as much grace as she can muster. This is going to get old fast.

The conversation continues in this manner for the next few minutes, each side apparently unwilling to be the first to end the pleasantries. At long last, however, Shaw finally puts down his glass on the table beside him and the genial expression on his face is replaced by an altogether more serious one.

“Now then,” he says coolly, leaning back in his chair and turning his eyes from one face to another. “Now that we’re all friends, how about we get down to business?”

Raven takes a deep breath. “Yes,” she says. “Let’s.”

*****

Raven has half an ear to the conversation about the nature of how they can get the arms from Shaw’s home into East Berlin before she hears Charles cough at her side.

“Oh, pardon me,” he says, “I think something at dinner didn’t agree with me. If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you to find something to settle my stomach.”

“No, not at all,” Shaw says, smiling blandly, “Janos can show you towards the kitchen.”

With that, Charles and Janos both leave the room, and Raven turns her attention back to Shaw and his conversation.

“So, as I was saying, we can claim that the boxes are children’s toys or something of the kind that won’t attract attention.”

“It can’t be toys,” Raven says, shaking her head, “Germany’s still following Russia’s lead when it comes to luxury goods. What if we said it was furniture or something else utilitarian?”

“You know best, Miss Darkholme,” Shaw says. “After all, you’re the ones who will be handling the delivery; I’m just interested in getting the materials to the right hands.”

“Of course,” Erik says smoothly, “we can handle the rest.” But as he finishes, he also gives a distressed noise and pulls a face.

“Are you feeling well, Max?”

At her left, Erik’s face is looking as if he also ate something off at dinner. “No, Miss Darkholme, I’m not.”

Shaw raises an eyebrow. “How are _you_ , Miss Darkholme?” he asks, “If your two companions are both ill, I worry for you.”

Raven shrugs. “I’m made of hardier stuff than my associates,” she says, rather than explaining that there is a method to Charles’ and Erik’s madness. 

“Can we continue as Mr. Eisenhardt settles himself?” she adds.

“But of course, but of course.”

Erik walks away, holding his stomach for effect, and Raven draws her attention back to Shaw for what she hopes is the last time.

*****

The business details are dealt with in less than ten minutes. Shaw, however, keeps talking for a lot longer.

“... So you see, I decided that buying a coffee plantation would be an excellent cover,” Shaw explains, after Raven compliments him on his magnificent house. “Lots of land, lots of privacy, and, most of all--” his teeth glinting brightly, “lots of money.’

Raven gives him a thin smile, feeling bored out of her wits. Casually, she glances down at her watch and takes a deep breath when she sees the time. Charles and Erik must have found and liberated the weapons by now, if all has gone according to plan. Hopefully they haven’t had too much trouble dealing with Janos and Azazel, who slunk out after Erik when he made his exit, but Raven is sure that her partners are capable of handling themselves. 

By now Hank ought to be waiting outside, ready to leave with his precious cargo the moment the weapons are handed to him. Charles had contacted him last night, and they had all hashed out the details together. Just as expected, Hank had confirmed that Raven wasn’t the only person that Shaw was meeting with; there were at least two more weapons dealers who were flying into Argentina over the next few days, and Raven is quite certain that they’re not coming here to work on their tans. Stealing the weapons had therefore become all the more important after getting confirmation that Shaw hadn’t planned on selling all of them to just one party.

Raven tunes back in to the one-sided conversation just in time to hear Shaw make another suggestive remark about the _size_ of his plantation. Resisting the urge to groan, Raven gives him a bland smile and zones out again. 

Honestly, she thinks with a sigh, her fingers tracing over the hypodermic needle hidden beneath the skirts of her dress, if she doesn’t get out of here in the next ten minutes, she swears that she’s going to stick the needle right through Shaw’s stupid big leering eyes.

Fingering the sharp tip of the needle, Raven tunes back into Shaw’s continuing blather, her thoughts suddenly a great deal more pleasant.

*****

She is finally able to escape from Shaw’s conversation ten long, _long_ minutes later, feeling elated at having freed herself from him, although this is somewhat tarnished by the fact that she hates how uninvolved she was in the actual extraction of the arms. The boys always do get the best jobs.

She’s walking to the car, Shaw’s gaze still on her, before both Charles and Erik appear at her side.

“Was it successful?” she whispers.

“It was. Hank has already come and gone with the weapons. He’ll get them back to London without issue,” Erik says, as though Hank’s quick arrival and departure aren’t something of note. There is a tightness in his voice that says something happened – no doubt something to do with the smudged lipstick print on Charles’s cheek – but she won’t press the issue until they’re safely back in their suite.

The ride is eerily silent for all that they just accomplished, but she lets it pass for both Charles and Erik needing to calm their nerves.

Slowly they all walk through the hotel lobby before entering their room, and only then does someone speak.

“Hank’s lying low at the minute, but he’s not leaving until the morning; you’ll see him here at eight. He won’t be able to breakfast with the likes of Miss Darkholme in public, but we can certainly have him sneak in,” Charles says, his mood much improved than it was earlier in the week, and even more improved from when she last heard him talk at Shaw’s home.

“Well, I’m grateful that I can see him, even if you both already have. You should count yourselves lucky you were _otherwise engaged_ and didn’t have to listen to Shaw talk about how all the weapons could help the ‘Master Race’. I felt I could have been ill too.” She pulls a face to show exactly how awful she found the conversation, even though she knows that Charles and Erik already agree with her.

“It was marvelous work, no matter how vile the conversation,” Charles says before adding, “We appreciated your time stalling him.” He lets himself out of his jacket, with an effortless, casual elegance.

“We did,” Erik concurs, and then steps into Raven’s space, heat radiating off of him.

All of a sudden Raven knows where the evening will go, and she feels helpless to stop any attention that her partners care to lavish upon her.

*****

They lie back in bed, each of them thoroughly sated and pleased. There’s nothing quite like the sex they have after the successful completion of a job, Raven thinks through the haze of the afterglow. Granted, they can’t claim the mission is fully over until they get back to base and report to Howlett, but the main part of the job is over.

In truth, they ought to have left the country the moment that they left Shaw’s house. It’s unlikely that Shaw will discover that the weapons have been stolen quite so soon: the agreed upon date of transport is supposedly for the day after tomorrow, after all, and besides, Shaw and his henchmen will be much too busy dealing with other matters tonight - Charles and Erik had managed to shake off their shadows by stealthily pricking them with a needle full of a particularly bad emetic that Hank had concocted in his lab (Raven has a feeling that it was Charles who took care of this part; sleight of hand is far more his M.O. than Erik’s, after all), and Raven had done the same for Shaw when he had leaned in for a parting kiss at the door. Only the merest scratch would have sufficed, but Raven had taken great pleasure in jabbing the needle in a little harder than was necessary, passing it off as a light scratch from one of her nails. Her pleasure only grows when she imagines the misery that Shaw and his goons will be experiencing at this very moment.

Doubtless they will believe that they caught the same bout of food poisoning that Charles and Erik supposedly did from dining at the club that afternoon. In any case, it should keep them busy long after Raven, Charles and Erik have left the country. 

It’s a pity that they can’t stay longer in Argentina, Raven reflects with a touch of regret. It’s nice, being away from everyone at U.N.C.L.E. HQ, being able to do what the three of them do best - and it’s even more pleasant now that the mission is over and the three of them have fallen into a temporary mood of rare harmony. There are only a few more hours of peace, though. Their plane is scheduled to leave early the next morning and Raven has no doubt that, come dawn, Erik and Charles will go back to needling each other and circling around her like disgruntled puppies, and Raven will have to think about just who she can manipulate into doing her share of the paperwork (Erik might agree in the interest of having a uniformly neat and detailed report but Charles is an enormous softie underneath the expensive suits and artfully tousled hair and finds it hard to refuse her anything) and everything will be busy and loud and hectic all over again.

For now though, everything is quiet and peaceful, and Raven is content to lie back in the arms of the two men that she has come to trust the most in the world, and relax.


End file.
